Stay and Love
by Shadows Run
Summary: Why Atton would stay with a darkside Exile that descends further into the mantle of Dark Lord everyday? He only wants to stay and love, but he will maim and murder, should she ask. Series of darkside vignettes.Ch 5, Atton and the Exile sitting in a tree..
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Hints of violence and adult situations. I don't own Star Wars or any KOTOR characters.

**Note: **_Darkside Exile (and Revan). How and why Atton deals with his dark lover. _

Why did he follow her? Why had he spilled blood upon the dirt of dozens of planets, letting it stain his soul and sword, for her? For her death filled eyes, her tempting, deceptive smile, and her unending, inexorable darkness. All this blood, sweat, pain and passion, for a creature of echoes and death. Why?

Because he loved her. And that was always enough.

Even though she laughed when he dared say it. She looked in his eyes, to his soul, to the emptiness within that she fostered, and laughed.

"One such as you does not love, fool." She rolled her eyes and kissed him, hard, biting his lower lip. "So said the dearly departed Kreia. I believe you could love me, because I have made you, and one loves their creator for a time."

So yes, the fool loved the death of the force, and it was always enough for him to dance in her shadow.

Even when he spilled the blood of Jedi, followers, companions, friends, anyone, upon a Sith War Sword. Not a lightsaber. She'd said no, and she would tell him when he would cut her enemies down with that particular weapon. And she didn't want him to lose his skill with a blaster. It had once disturbed him that she understood that damn red droid's interpretation of love, but now he laughed. She'd expressed her pleasure at HK's methods, including a blaster rifle shot to the throat as far as silencing Jedi hypocrisy. And now, he was the Exile's "shot to the knees of a target 120 kilometers away using an Aratech sniper rifle with a tri-light scope", in HK's borrowed words. Damn that droid. At least Revan had it now.

Oh yes, the evil, dark Lord of the Sith. A woman. A very beautiful women who was like a sister to the Exile. A woman who was still in the Unknown Regions, breaking force sensitives that the Exile sent her. Some that Atton himself caught. Kreia was right about being able to unlock the part of him that loved killing Jedi, but he loved it more when the Exile unlocked it. Seeing her amber eyes laugh as he plunged headlong into a senseless rage, controlled only by her threats and promises. Mostly her promises that made his vision waver in anticipation.

She could be a harsh mistress. Force sensitives every where could testify to that. Sith Masters knew it just as well, if not better. The only difference in her behavior towards him was that she _dominated_ him, wholly and without argument. Punishment was not needed; threats, of pain or otherwise, would suffice. But she preferred to promise him rewards. Her rewards were reaped dually since she'd taken him as some sort of a prostitute (his payment was her company and the fact that he'd gotten a chance with her, Mical be damned). She called him a courtesan that had been inside too many Twi'leks, but that seemed too formal. Hell, maybe it was too polite. He was hers, entirely, in every sense of the word, and he would serve her, love her, kill for her, until his life dripped from him, hopefully, at her feet.

Atton stretched, letting a small smile trail on his lips. The Exile knew how to sleep. She either slept sound or screamed in fierce force visions of cutting down her foes. Atton preferred the former since he didn't get hit in the process and he could watch her. He didn't have to think of the next task she asked of him. She only had to ask. Gone were the days when she demanded. Gone were the days when he would argue as he had aboard the Ebon Hawk. He had no leverage. She didn't need a pilot anymore. But still, she kept him.

He held a strand of her hair in his fingers, stroking it with his index finger and listening to her sedated breathing. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and sighed. He needed to go. He was chasing another Jedi, she'd asked him last night, saying "Tomorrow", which was a word he was used to hearing after an order. It meant she wanted him for the night, but didn't need his presence come morning since he had blood to spill and she certainly wouldn't be making him breakfast. And it was morning.

He hated tomorrow. He loved the night. Hours of endless passion, desire, primal urges, followed by exhaustion and post coital bliss. Then the near endless span of time he would spend with his head on her shoulder, loving her, not having to do anything but stay and love.

He wanted to stay and love forever, but it was not destined to be.

As he moved to press another kiss to her forehead, he felt a hand on his neck, pulling him to her lips. Her kisses were hot and ravenous. She almost choked him as she pulled on his collar. A force restraining choker adorned his neck much of the time until she saw fit to take it off. He didn't mind. It silenced all that drove him, all that he didn't want to hear when she wasn't there to silence it for him.

With a final tug, she pulled him down onto her as he choked, her slim fingers between the choker and his neck. She unclasped the collar and threw it, smiling.

"Tomorrow."

As she ripped open his nightshirt, tomorrow faded, and his love was meant to stay. For now.

_Tell me what you think. Should I continue? I almost like it as a one shot, which means I'll leave it as such without someone proding me. _

_Luvs, and thankies for reading,_

_Shadows Run_


	2. Used and Loved

_I decided to continue. This is how Atton earns his lightsaber. Will be at least another chapter. Enjoy! _

**_Disclaimer:_**

_**Spoilers! **And of course, a little language, and a bit of riske behavior, naturally, since we're Sith here. Oh, and I don't own, nor make moneys, so don't sue. _

Atton stretched, feeling the chilled silk brush against the scratches on his chest. Force he loved that woman. He smiled over at the Exile. Her hair was spread across the pillow and her back, leaving only a small amount of her pale skin uncovered between the black sheets and the blacker hair. He stroked the hair as it lay flat on her back and she turned her head to look at him.

"Wipe that grin off your face. You aren't that much better than Mical. That damn Jedi drone." She muttered.

"I wish you'd have let me kill him." Atton said. He meant it. The force burned in Mical like it had in the Jedi Masters Corina had killed and it drove him to a frenzy. He wanted it dead. He wanted to feel the kind of force the Exile wielded, and nothing else.

"He has his uses, even if only to amuse us. And what you did to him, was a thing of beauty. Even Kreia would've reconsidered her opinion of you." She said. She looked proud.

"Who cares about that old witch anyway? The only thing she ever did that made sense was tag along with you." He spat.

"Why did you hate her so?" She asked.

"Because she lied and manipulated you, and would've killed you if she wasn't so damn ancient." Atton snarled.

"Hm. For someone who hated the force and the Sith, she certainly knew how to use them both. Besides, it is the way of betrayers to turn on those they love the most. She did love me. And her death did strengthen me. That's why she tagged along." She said.

"You think so?" Atton asked.

"I know so." She said.

She propped herself up on her elbows and slid over to him, overlapping his frame under the sheets as her hair trailed down to his chest. He took some in his fingers and she fluttered her eyelashes at him. She ran a hand down his chest.

"For your services, although I didn't ask you to crush his spirit, I will reward you." Her hand traipsed to his earlobe and he groaned, bringing his hand to her face. She pulled away and laughed. "Not quite, my manly mynock."

She called something to her hand, the speed of it alarming him. She thrust it to his chest, the air whooshing out of his lungs as the impact settled. He put his hand to hers, breathing hard. His fingers slipped through hers, feeling a cold metal cylinder.

"I know you might feel better about constructing one yourself, but I'd feel better if I made it and found the crystals for you." Her smile was a thing of beauty and she withdrew her hand, letting him take it in his.

"A lightsaber? A double bladed lightsaber." He exhaled. This was something he'd yearned for ever since that moment in the slums of Nar Shaddaa, wishing to feel the extension of the force, of power, in his hand.

"Of course. You are my personal kath hound, and you will do as much damage as possible with every swing." She twined her hand in his hair and used it to pin his head to the pillow. Her long raven hair hung down her chest, creating a very Eve like look as she stared down at him.

"What color?" Atton asked. She chuckled.

"It's a special design. It's able to come apart into two single blades, one orange, one red. The colors will remain the same when the blade is together. It's called a wayfarers blade, and Bao-Dur designed it." She crouched down on him, her hair swinging down to curtain them. "And it holds as many crystals as two blades, all very powerful. It took a long time to collect them, and test the prototypes."

"Thank you, Corina."

"Don't thank me Atton, use the tools that I give you, as always, and I will continue to use you, and love you." She kissed him.

"Did you really like what I did to him?" Atton asked.

"It was orgasmic."

_Review? Don't you wanna know what he did to the Disicple, eh? It'll be evil. Bwa ha. _


	3. Consume and Burn

_What Atton did to Mical that made the Exile oh so happy. Just for a reference point, in the dark side path, you can get Mical to be a force user, but you have to do a few light sided errands to curry favor. And then his alignment warps to the dark side and he's quite a useful dark Jedi consular. Just for your info, it's kinda important to the events in this chappie. _

**_Disclaimers: _**

**_Spoilers! _**_Prolly some bad language somewhere. And I don't own, just like last chappie etc etc. _

"Corina, we should talk." Mical said.

The Exile sat, legs crossed, in a private meeting room at the rebuilt academy on Korriban. Atton stood behind her throne like chair, his grip on the Sith War sword making his knuckles white. Hate burned in his soul. He wanted to hold Mical's throat, cut off the air to his lungs, and watch him die. Being in the Exile's bed meant nothing while Mical still haunted her, still preaching Jedi hypocrisy. Why he lingered, Atton never knew.

Wasn't it obvious she had done a few nice deeds to lure him into trusting her? Lure him to talk, to love, and to serve? She did it with them all, whatever it took to make them bend to her will. She would do everything but change. She never had to change. Atton knew he was no different, that she lured him, and didn't work nearly as hard to do so. Because he believed in her, and nothing else mattered. He would follow her to hell and back, and her enemies were his targets. They would bleed, or he would die trying to kill them.

But Mical was different.

He stayed because he wanted to be a Jedi, and save the Republic. And save the Exile.

Save her from what? Atton wondered. Save her from the power that made his skin gray and creviced? Save her from the power that made her dominate the Republic, subject it to her will, made her strong enough to kill the Jedi apposing her? The same power he used every time he healed someone, or used the force in any way, or when he meditated or even breathed?

Jedi hypocrisy. Jedi lies.

And he hoped there would be a Jedi death very soon.

"Should we talk, Disciple? I don't know that I have much to say to you." She said.

The Exile had once considered seducing the blonde fool, but her beliefs had already saturated him, he merely had to realize it. And taking his hero worship and fostering anything sexual would not satisfy a Sith Lord's appetite.

"Corina, I-"

"You know Mical, the reason you are the worst student I have ever taught," She met his eyes, seeing his pain as he swallowed, "is because I don't enjoy teaching you. Because you never quite understand what I teach you." She raised her hand and Atton felt a surge in the force. Force choke, hers was a light clasp on the throat, just enough to strain the air passage. "You will call me Master if you ever want to talk to me, or anyone, ever again." She flicked her hand and tossed him backwards. He never resisted her powers. "Now, what is it you think we should talk about?"

"You mustn't give into your darkest urges, Corina. You'll bleed the galaxy of all life."

"I mustn't give into my _darkest _urges? You've given up on the lesser dark urges? Good." She said.

"That isn't what I meant-"

"What did you mean then? I am already tired of your presence." She snarled.

"Please, listen to me Corina-"

"She has listened to you." Atton said. Mical started because he wasn't aware of Atton's presence before that moment. Mical took a step backward.

"What are you doing here?" Mical asked. The Exile smiled. Mical knew why Atton would be at her side.

"I'm here because I think _we _should talk, blondey. You are a sniveling, droning, powerless fool. You beg her to listen to your twisted lies about the dark side when you know _nothing _of darkness. If you knew darkness, you would know yourself." Atton said. He moved forward, the sword hanging limp in his grasp.

"I know myself, Atton."

"Do you? Do you know the darkness that hounds you, that feds on you, ever since you joined us? Ever since you let her whisper in your ear, tell you of the force, of the forgotten Jedi?"

Atton threw back his head and laughed as he circled the blonde fool, leaning to his ear.

"You are more of a fool than I ever claimed to be. She taught you the force through Sith teachings, through darkness, and you believed it to be of the Jedi, merely because she brought you along when she was in a good mood."

Atton met her gaze as he finished that sentence and he licked his lips. He was giving her a good mood right now as she watched the Disciple break.

"She used your prejudices to seduce you into believing what she did, and you still think she cares for the Republic, for the Jedi, and for you." Atton hissed.

"I-"

"The Jedi are dead, and their beliefs live no more. You are Sith. You are the darkness that has consumed the life of the force. And you chose this path when you chose her."

"I would nev-" Disciple began.

"And what did you choose? A master of darkness, the death of the force, the evil you fought for so long. And you loved her. Still do. And she loathes you. Your twisted beliefs in the Jedi are all that remains of everything that has ever hurt her, betrayed her, and weakened her. She hates you. And worse, she pities you because you are blind to yourself and your weakness. She will use you until she asks me to end your pathetic life, because that is worse than a quick death by her hand."

"No, she-"

"And she _never _loved you."

The Disciple spoke no more.

"Return to your quarters, Mical, and bother me no more."

When he left, the remaining guards escorting him out, the Exile got to her feet. Rage billowed from Atton at the retreating form of Mical. She basked in it and waited until his attention returned to her before advancing. He expected punishment because he had revealed his presence and spoken without her permission. He swallowed, bowing his head and kneeling at her feet. He trembled as her fingers brushed his neck.

She used the force to jerk him back up to his feet and pulled him to her, wrapping her arms around him as she kissed him, pressing their frames together. Her fingernails scratched his neck as her grip slipped from his hair. Her hips rubbed against his and her arm slung low on his waist, holding him in place. When their kiss broke, she pressed a kiss to his throat.

"And I have always loved you."

Her smile consumed him, and her love burned.

(la la la break like space here)

Atton raised his orange and red blades against Mical's Sith War sword and his smile made the Disciple, the last of the Jedi to fall, cry out with rage, because she loved Atton, and used them both.

_What'd you think? I love writing the dark side Exile and Atton stuff. How was the dialogue? Isn't some part of you happy to see the stuck up blondey give in? Maybe? _

_Luvs, Shadows Run_


	4. How it Began

_How it began. Atton's first steps to the dark side. Right after his conversion on Nar Shaddaa. How he proves himself to the Exile. _

**_Disclaimers: _**

**_Spoilers, ish? _**_This is assuming that you take Atton's cute scoundrel self down to the Refugee sector with you so you can convert him right after those brightly colored Twi'leks talk to you. _

Atton was shaky for a few minutes after she'd opened him to the force again, just like that woman all those years ago. And she was so alive, and he could feel it all now. And it all stemmed from her.

If he hadn't loved her before, he was hers, completely, utterly and wholly now.

He felt her hand on his arm and she drew closer to him than she'd ever gone before, looking in his eyes.

"Are you all right now, Atton?"

"Never better." He said.

"Prove it." She handed him her saber.

"What should I do?" He asked.

"Surprise me." She stepped away from him and let him take the lead.

Atton walked toward the other side of the Refugee Sector. He could start a fight with the Exchange, or the Serreco thugs, but he couldn't kill them all by himself. She'd have to help him, and that damn red droid would be quick to point it out. No, she didn't need him to kill things for her. She wanted him to be different than some thug for hire. He had to think.

He paused at the entrance and watched her frown as an old man coughed and heaved, holding his side. He was ill. She'd passed him on the way in with a snarl, clenching her lightsaber and glaring. She hated seeing his sniveling, sick weakness, unable to heal himself and unwilling to die. She and Atton knew it wasn't lethal, but he wouldn't recover by sitting around, pissing and moaning.

And he felt the same rage and anger that she did for his weakness.

He walked to the old man, Geriel, with her lightsaber hanging from his grip.

"Stay away-"

"I know I know, you're ill. And you look awful. And you're endangering all the others, and adding to their plight, just by refusing to die. You must be pretty frail anyway, to get sick when all the others are fine. And whatever you have will only get stronger and infect them all. How pathetic." He turned, as if to talk away, but Geriel caught a hold of his jacket.

"Stranger, it isn't that bad, is it?"

"Of course it is. If it was just a little space flu, even you would've gotten over it by now. And look at you. You have no hope of recovering, and the longer you live, the more chance you have to infect the others. Get away from me." Atton flicked his arm and sent the old man sprawling.

"Stranger, I ask for you help-"

"Unless you want something sharp to end your life with, don't bother asking for anything from me, you frail, old disease bag." Atton snarled. He felt the Exile's unblinking gaze. The old man was on his knees now, where he'd fallen.

"Lend me a vibrosword-"

"And spread your tainted blood everywhere?" Atton scoffed.

"But you said-"

"I can spare a blaster, old man, but I won't come close enough to pull the trigger."

Atton took a cheap blaster from one of HK's compartments and the droid was too mesmerized by what was about to occur to complain. Atton threw the blaster just short of the old man, and he crawled to it, his hands trembling. He leaned against a wall and turned his pleading eyes to Atton once more.

"Are you sure there is nothing more I could do-"

"There is nothing more anyone would do for you, old man." Atton hissed.

A gargled moan echoed in the Refugee sector that day, and the Exile basked in the darkness that was to come.

Atton smiled as the Exile slid behind him, wrapping her arms around him, on her tiptoes to whisper in his ears.

"Good, my apprentice. Not needing to use the lightsaber is the best use of its power." She gripped his hand and took the blade back.

"For you, Master. And many more." He gestured to the dead man and she smiled.

"Come, let the death continue."

_Shiver. I'm even scared. Tell me what you think. IC? Mebbe? Also, I was thinking of posting a slightly riske chapter about Atton and the dark Exile. Thoughts? It's ready to post, but I'm unsure of how bad it is and whether there's any interest._

_Shadows Run_


	5. What You've Taken

_Hey, I'm back. First time I read through this, fanfic scrapped my changes because I needed to log in again. (Makes teddy face). So, rawr. _

**_Disclaimer:_**

_Rating went up this chapter. Why? Riske scene involving Exile and Atton. Why? What else is there to do with Atton in a dormitory after you've won all his money at Pazaak? Hm?_

Atton yawned as he stretched, putting his feet up on the Ebon Hawk's control panel. This was gonna be a long planet. And their fearless leader had departed without him on her first visit to Nar Shaddaa. Not smart, but with that witch always talking her to death, maybe she was starting to think Atton really was a fool. Maybe he was. He still followed her after his unheeded warnings about her looks changing, her darkness spreading. But so did the others.

"You shouldn't be alone, you are injured-" Disciple yowled.

"Then go make some medpacs." She snarled.

Atton awoke and heard her angry steps to the dormitory. Someone had a rough introduction to the smuggler's moon. He yawned and stretched. He'd warned her. And instead of listening, she took blondey. It sounded like she'd learned her lesson, but he hoped she wasn't hurt too badly. He settled back into the pilot's seat and shut his eyes.

"Murderer, wake up."

That witch always snuck up on him.

"What is it now Kreia?" He snarled.

"I must see to some thing that requires my attention outside of the ship. The Exile should not be alone right now. Distract her, for now, but do not anger here or worsen her injuries, fool, or I shall br-"

"Break me, I know. I'm going, your highness." She turned to leave and Atton spoke over his shoulder. "Oh, and don't let a beggar shake you down for credits."

He listened for her footsteps to fade and shivered. What he'd pay to space that witch. Maybe when the Exile got tired of her, she'd cut her down to size. Sith, why was he always calling her that? Her name was Corina. It was a gorgeous name but it'd taken him until Telos to pronounce it right. Mostly because his mouth got real dry around her. It sounded dangerous, sexy, but mostly dangerous. Not very Jedi-y. More like a Sith name. But it was just a name. Her name.

_Now fool. _

He shuddered as Kreia prodded his mind.

_If you really listen, then space it, Sith witch. _

Silence.

Atton got up and headed to the dormitory Kreia had emptied. He paused in the doorway, feeling the familiar shake in his knees when he watched her. He leaned on the cold metal doorframe and exhaled. If Kreia made the wrinkles and gray skin look awful, Corina made it look irresistible. His deeper exhale made her open her eyes. The eyes that always looked ready to deal death. He swallowed. Can't show her fear.

"Hey, want some company?" He flashed his scoundrel grin and looked down at her through his lashes as she meditated on the floor.

"If by 'some', you mean your company." She said. He took a couple steps in and stopped, trying to decipher her smile.

"Sorry to interrupt, your, meditation-"

"I don't mind in the least, Atton." She smiled and looked up at him. He recognized that smile. The smile of a Sith Lord. But she'd always smile for him. Anytime, anywhere.

"I wondered whether you'd want company, since you sent blondey out." He couldn't help but scowl at the thought.

"Blondey? I thought you'd have a more creative name for him."

"I don't like thinking about that two faced schutta." He said.

"That's better. And he probably won't understand it either."

Corina smiled at him and slipped to a cot, resting her elbows on her knees, giving Atton a view of her clenched cleavage, albeit through her dark robes. He felt heat rise to his cheeks and he coughed. Ten face card plus or minus-

"And I'm sure you understand why I'd send him out unless I wanted a history lecture. But he's all right for being such a stiff." She said.

"Well, yeah, I guess, but I'll never admit it. How are you doing?" He asked. She crossed her legs and part of her robes parted, leaving only the leggings covering her supple thighs. Atton swallowed, hard and concentrated on counting the wrinkles in her cheeks. At least he was looking at her face.

"I should have taken you with me for my first venture onto Nar Shaddaa. It's a rough place, especially with Disciple harping at me worse, more often, and more _intensely _than Kreia, with more 'admiration' than she would dare show." She made a gagging motion. "And I am sore as hell. Those thugs pack a punch and Disciple is still working on his skills with a blaster."

Corina sighedand rubbed her neck. She rested her foot on the edge of the cot, her knee near her chin as she unlaced her boot, knowing exactly where Atton's eyes were. The other boot followed and she tossed her gloves and head gear.

"You know, I learned a couple, uh, massage techniques." Atton offered. He flushed as she met his downcast gaze with a smile.

"Did you have learn these, 'techniques', from any of the Twi'leks you've spent time with?" She asked. He flushed a noticeable shade of pink and cleared his throat.

"Well, uh, maybe."

"Good, then you'll actually know what you're doing." She patted the space on the cot next to her.

Atton blinked.

That line _never _worked. Much less on a Sith Lord.

Atton sat down near her and worked his way behind her, his legs slipping around hers, as if running a terrible parallel, never meant to fully touch. Her blood ran hotter than his and he quivered.

"Uh, I should probably, take your armor off." She turned her head over her shoulder to meet his eyes. "It's not very helpful if you can't feel it." She turned her face away again, her eyes still pinned to his.

"Be my guest, flyboy." Her dusky lashes fluttered and Atton swore she winked.

Atton's entire being shook. His hands trembled at the simple catches and straps of her armor. He could blow terminals and everything around them to hell, but Sith damn it, that Jedi armor of her refused to give ground, as if protecting her modesty or chastity or whatever it was called when she wasn't fully clothed. She laughed out loud as his hand sputtered for the third time with a catch low on her stomach. She gasped for breath and stilled his hand with hers.

"You're laughing at me."

"No, no, I may be a Sith Lord, but I am not invulnerable to torture." She started to catch her breath and she wiped a tear of laughter from her face.

"You're, ticklish?"

"Don't look so shocked, Atton. Do calm down so I don't have to take my own armor off. Be a professional masseuse for a moment at least."

First order of business in being a professional was smacking his head on the top of the durasteel bunk.

"Fu-" Atton stopped and felt chilled fingers where he'd gonged his head.

"Ck. My poor scoundrel is too tall for this ship."

Her fingers lingered, rubbing, threatening to illicit a moan from her temporary masseuse, until their lost their chill and left his head, lingering on his cheek as she brought her face close to his. Pain steadied him. He could work the armor now and it fell to his ministrations. He stopped at her near full body spandex number those Sith called underwear.

"Can I-"

"Yes, but only my back is sore." She said, eyebrow arched.

"Yes mistress, I will mind my manners." He murmured, daring to nuzzle her ear. Playing a subservient masseuse was a good way to stay alive with all organs (vital or no) in tact when one was rubbing a Sith Lord down after a hard day of making the galaxy darker.

The small zipper moved smoothly down her back to the very end of the small of her back. Atton swallowed, feeling his Adams apple move. He trailed his hands up the exposed skin and felt her exhale at his touch. He slipped his fingers under the material and began to part it. The parting slowed as it neared her shoulders, the front slipping down, lower, past her collar bone.

It was a silent thing, the way she got him to stop. Her shoulders tensed, back straightened and she looked straight forward. He felt a tightened around his windpipe. Atton stopped and his hands retreated to her already bared skin.

"Sorry." No response. She accepted his apology for his unwanted trespass because it could lead to wanted trespass. Slowly.

Silence flowed between them as Atton rubbed her shoulders, back and neck. She didn't look at him, which worried him, but she absolved that worry when she turned her face to his, noticing the strain in his neck as he stooped to keep from knocking his head again.

"You look uncomfortable."

Her hand, blissfully cold, touched his cheek and guided his face to rest against her neck and shoulder as she held the front of her jumpsuit in place. Her skin was chilled but a deep heat resonated and transferred to him as his cheek grazed her neck. His breath traveled down her chest and made her tremble. Her grip loosened on the article of clothing and a tempting but not indecent amount of her cleavage met his gaze.

"That's much better." Atton said.

The Exile wasn't the only one with powers of persuasion.

Atton's hands again slipped under the jumpsuit, feeling the trembling flesh under his finger tips as one hand roamed low, and the other high. He avoided any personal areas because he liked living un-singed and tempting her to break and beg was better than breaking first and risking more permanent breaks. If that made sense.

He dared tempt fate and leaned his face down, kissing her neck and letting his tongue breach the kiss as he rubbed circles on her hipbone. His tongue trailed to her earlobe where his teeth applied a gentle pressure.

She exhaled, her chest trembling. She turned her face to his and her eyes were the eyes of a hungry predator.

"Don't tease me scoundrel."

Atton bit down on her neck and watched her writhe, a moan escaping her dark lips.

"I _don't_ tease, Exile." His words were slow, deep, and in her ear. Her hand rose and the door to the dormitory slamming shut through her force powers.

"Then take me, fool."

**_(This is where the naughty part begins. You can skip down to the bold, italic parenthetical thingy fauther down if you wish to avoid feeling naughty. I feel like I'm covering someone's eyes during an extended kissy scene, lol.)_**

Atton would've used the leverage his hands under her suit had but she turned in his arms and kissed him, demanding his response that she knew waited for her. She gripped his collar and pushed him until he slipped backward, his hands catching him as his grin caught up, their lips parted. His hands moved to her and she chuckled.

"Uh ah, my scoundrel, you first." She gripped the seams of his collar and ripped his armor down to his waist.

The Exile ripped Mandalorian armor along the seams. Damn.

Her hands invaded the freed flesh, pulling the torso layer of armor off. She was taking deep breaths and he pressed his chest to hers, wishing she'd get naked already. Then she touched his chest, her fingertips blazing with heat. He was in no hurry then.

She kissed his neck, looking up at him with those ambered, soulless eyes, and licked his throat. She worked his pants loose and bit his throat for a moment.

"Get your shoes and pants off, five minutes ago." She ordered, her teeth showing like a Maalraas.

"What about that gray and red number?" He asked, getting up out of the cot to shed the remainder of his clothes. The chilled air hit him with a welcoming relief to the warmth he and the Exile had produced. He paused at the waistband of his underwear, glancing at the Exile, who'd crossed her arms again.

"I'm not one to repeat myself. You first." Her grin was wicked and he rolled his eyes as he slipped his underwear off. She held her hand to keep him there and looked him over, slow, with weighted gaze.

"Like what you see?"

"It isn't all about aesthetics." She stood and pressed close to him, letting her grip, and the only thing keeping the suit from falling to her waist, fall. She guided his hand to her bare hip and he slid the under garment off. He shivered. She smiled. "But a lot of it is."

She pulled him back to the cot and he straddled her, following her guidence to rest between her legs before drawing her into a deep kiss as his hands roamed. Down the supple curves of her chest, the dips and shallows of her stomach, to her thigh and inner thigh, drawing a strangled moan into their kiss as his fingers dared venture further.

"Like that?"

Atton smiled, revealing in her reactions, as much as she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of an uncontrolled one. She bit hard on his throat, stopping his breath from drawing for a long moment. When she released him, he gasped for air, trembling and touched his neck. It'd be hard to explain her teeth impressions on his neck, but it'd be worth it at this rate.

"Yes, very much."

Atton ran his fingers into her hair and used it to pin her head to the cot as he looked down at her. He lowered his face to hers and kissed her, his lips trailing down her neck and chest as his fingers loosed their grip so he could prove he was no fool, nor a selfish lover.

Her inner thighs were just as ticklish as her stomach and the skin was softer as he licked it, then blew on it, the twin sensations of heat and cool making her arch. She looked down to him, panting as her hands entwined in his dark hair.

"Please," Her voice broke.

"Yes." _Master. _

She eventually dragged him back up to kiss him, trembling, shaking, a mess, her entire body begging to be taken. But her lips wouldn't form the words, and her pride kept them well buried, even in her passion. Her nails bit into his neck, matching the scratches on his shoulder, and more would come with time.

Sweat gleamed on Atton's frame, his concentration high as he tamped down the urge to release at the site of her naked frame under hers, lit with arousal. She wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled herself up to him, kissing him as her breasts pressed to his chest. He settled between her hips and shivered as she slipped her legs around his waist, applying a gentle pressure to the small of his back to urge him forward. She was having difficulties controlling herself too.

But he wanted to hear her say it again. That word he had never heard from her lips before. _Please. _But he couldn't ask, or she would never look at him again. You didn't ask a Sith Lord to beg. So he posed between her legs and continued to kiss her, as hard and demanding as he dared, until she broke away for breath and to narrow her eyes at him.

"What, pray tell, are you waiting for?" He smiled and nuzzled her neck.

"Maybe I just want to cuddle." He murmured, licking her ear.

"Oh please Atton. No man cuddles naked." His knees weakened at her half hearted plea marred with sarcasm.

"I could be a first." He said.

"Atton, please." She breathed, arching. He kissed her collarbone.

"Yes."

He entered her, slow, inch by inch despite their mutual frustration because apparently, she indeed a virgin (how the Sith Lords deemed that possible, he'd never know) and her pain became a presence on her face as her nails dragged on his chest. But she revealed in the mixture of pain and pleasure, blood and sweat. Her legs tightened around his waist and he paused as he was in her fully. She groaned.

"You didn't tell me." He murmured, kissing her throat.

"Would you have been as aggressive, as good, as you were, had you known?" He looked at her and blinked. "I am no fool, and neither are you Atton."

The Exile turned her face away, and Atton saw shame. He stopped all other thoughts and focused on his love for this woman. He kissed her and drove her doubts away.

"I,-"

"Atton-"

He began to thrust again but focused on finding his words as he watched the sensations play across her face and frame. How she tensed and writhed, mangled moans just escaping her lips as she threw her head back against his thrusts. How her nails dug in, or scraped along his thighs. How her legs guided his strokes deeper. How she occasionally gazed at him, gasping, looking at the scoundrel as sweat and passion blazed his features, bringing him to life in a way she never thought possible.

She didn't think it possible because it was Atton. The heartless, uncaring, loveless, self preservationist, past sensitive, question hating scoundral that only tagged along because someone had to fly the ship. And he loved her.

And he was in her, filling her every need for the moment because he could. Perhaps for every moment she had in this galaxy.

Corina's body tensed in a way that Atton knew well from other women. But it was never like this. It was almost primal, the lust, the fire, in her eyes and body. How she moaned, writhed and gasped. She was falling into the waves of an orgasm. Because of Atton. Her scoundral, her pilot, her chosen lover. Atton moaned.

"Atton, I-"

"I love you." Atton gasped out as they both peaked.

**_(Done being naughty in a graphic way. La la la, being normal...)_**

Atton was careful to not fall right on her as his strength left him. She settled against his shoulder, still trying to control her breathing. She rested her hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat on her palm.

"Atton, this isn't as simple as it seems. What you've taken tonight isn't just me, it's something, deeper." She stroked his face and leaned up to kiss his forehead. "I won't always be kind, but I will always be yours."

"I know Corina." He kissed her and wrapped a strand of her hair around his finger. He sighed. He'd signed on for life. She chuckled.

"I know Kreia sent you in here, but I don't think she intended to get me laid." She said. Atton laughed, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"Well, how long do you think we have to get clothed and presentable before she comes back, nose in the air?"

"Feh, we've got lots of time. She's probably doing the same thing we were." She said.

Atton groaned.

"Well, I hope you enjoyed yourself, because after that mental image, that'll be the last time I ever think of taking anything." He muttered.

"You aren't that foolish, Atton. Though you are a damn fine masseuse."

_I dunno if you all are into that kind of thing, but I think it would explain why Atton stuck around. _

_So, tell me if you like it or not. I wrote it, so I figured I'd share it. (Shrugs shoulders). I'm usually a slash writer, so tell me how the straight shmex was eh? _

_I'm running low on inspiration, but we'll see. And reviews always make me feel more inclined to writing, so feel free to leave me some love. Or hate, depending on how you felt._

_Luvs, Shadows Run_


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